


Nick and Ellis get fucked. Literally and figuratively.

by starryvagabond



Category: Left 4 Dead, Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Ellis is a devout Catholic, M/M, Nick was in the Mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryvagabond/pseuds/starryvagabond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working title. A myriad of Nellis drabbles. Other pairings may be present and will be added as I add drabbles. The rating of the whole work is explicit because some of the drabbles will be smut. I will mark them if they are. A lot of headcanons, mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How to Save a Life

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote these about 4 years ago, at least. I was never going to publish them, but I really like them. So I decided I'm going to share them. These contain a lot of dark themes. But I will try to give as much warning as I possibly can. As I said before, a lot of these are headcanons about different aspects of the Left 4 Dead universe, especially Nick and Ellis's. Well, enjoy.

There was a fear that washed over Nick every time that bar dropped off the exit to the safe door. A loud clatter that marked the beginning of the hunt, like a gunshot signaling runners to race to jump over hurdles. It was never him he was worried about. He always took the medkit, a bottle of pills, a melee weapon perhaps.

But Ellis just left with a medkit and a gun, ablaze like this was all some sort of arcade game come to life.

The small voice in the back of his head would remind him of Rosa, of how he had failed to react fast enough, outsmart the men he had once put his very life on the line for, stills remembers them cocking their guns and aiming them at his head.

_"Don't move," they had told him, a magnum to his temple as he watched a few goons wrestle his wife of a few weeks to the floor._

_"Ya think because you got in good with the boss that he's forgiving your debt, Nicky," one of the men had said, his breath reeking of cigars and cheap whiskey. "Well you're wrong. And I heard you two just went on a nice Honeymoon. Rio De Janeiro. That ain't cheap."_

_"Gimme a few more days, Mac. I got some big games with a couple of suckers," he said, the fear growing in his_ _body_ , _though he wouldn't let it show. "Just keep Rosa out of this."_

_He grinned, snapping and two men held Nick back as he advanced on the screaming woman. "I cannot stand it when a woman is in distress, wouldn't you agree, Nicky?"_

_She was sobbing, begging, pleading, crying for him. It would be a sound he would soon associate with the Witch, one that would make his skin tremble._

_The only thing Nick could remember after that was a pistol in his wife's mouth, and the trigger being pulled. "Your time's up, Nicky." And that sickening laugh._

So when Ellis goes charging toward a group of Infected like gangbusters, Nick chases after him, shoots the ones he cannot, and makes sure he's alright before himself. He's not making the same mistake twice.


	2. Pokerface

"Nick?"

The elder male heard his name, but didn't move a muscle, just stayed flat on his back, smoking the last damn cigarette he had with shaky hands. They were bunked up in an abandoned shack on the swamp for the night (or a few hours, at least, Coach complaining he was hungry finally getting the better of Nick's already frazzled nerves).

"Nick?"

_Just ignore him, Nick_ , he told himself, knowing that if he didn't acknowledge the boy he would move on to bother Rochelle or Coach, though the two of them were both passed out. Still, Nick didn't trust a one of them.

"NICK!"

He sighed, putting the cigarette out and sitting up. "What, hick. What. Do you want."

Ellis didn't seem a bit phased, still grinning that bright grin that was pure him. "You play cards, right?"

What the hell. "Sure, I've been known to play a hand or two of Texas Hold 'Em when the occasion arises." _Or the suckers_ , he grinned to himself.

"That's like Poker, right?"

"Ellis, it _is_ Poker."

"...oh."

There was a peaceful moment of quiet, and Nick was sure Ellis was going to shut up now. Nope. "Hey, Nick. Think ya'd wanna play a coupla rounds of cards?"

The elder male shrugged, opening the little black satchel he had strapped around his thigh, revealing his lucky deck of cards. "Sure, kid. But you got no chance."

He shuffled the cards, bridging them before dealing five cards to each of them. Now, Nick hadn't gotten where he was without cheating and playing with the down to earth southern boy wasn't any different. "Aces high, deuces wild," he announced, and the game began.

"Full house," he finally said, showing his cards after discarding had been done and bets of pocket change had been placed.

Ellis gave him a grin before laying his cards down. "Four of a kind. I win."

Nick looked at him dumbfounded. "You have one hell of a pokerface, kid."

"Well, this one time me an mah buddy Keith wanted ta make some money so he taught me how to play poker..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you can tell by now these drabbles are not going to be long at all. So don't be expecting much.


	3. Pieces of Me

It's only been a few days since they've met each other, but Ellis is beginning to wonder. Nick is very quiet, keeps to himself, throws angry glances at all of them. But still, he admires him. Looks up to him for some reason. Sure, he's rude at times but he's fun to be around.

Except when he gets like this.

The four had just outrun a Tank and a horde, the large metal door to the safe room being slammed and immediately Coach and Ellis start to put things to block the door.

"God dammit, Ellis! That's the fifth time today you've thrown a Molotov while I was in the middle of a group of zombies. I'm starting to wonder if you have any goddamn brains at all."

"'m sorry, Nick. Was just tryin' ta help, ya know..."

"Yeah? Well don't," he growled, going to sit down with a health kit and patch himself up.

Ellis realised where they were: the entrance to the Tunnel of Love. Rochelle had claimed she was tired, and the room was relaxing, so she settled down against the wall on the other side of the room from Nick.

Coach was taking inventory of the room: the medkits, the guns, the bullets... everything that was in every safe room for the four of them. But he remained quiet, which Nick was grateful for.

The conman was reluctant to sit on the floor for his unsettling fear of all the germs that could be on the carpet, but he finally settled in the corner near the entrance. Little to his surprise, Ellis followed and sat a bit away from him. His mouth opened to speak, but Nick raised a hand.

"Don't even start, Ellis," he muttered with a slight yawn, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes. "Just, lemme get some sleep."

"But..." he sighed, knowing if he bothered Nick too much the elder male would pound him or chase him away. He was content to stay close to him in silence rather than being loud and being beat to shit.

The light in the room was not in the best repair, flickering on and off as Ellis lay curled up near Nick's feet. Coach had settled in to sleep by the exit an hour ago, and Rochelle and Nick had nodded off around the same time.

Ellis pushed himself to his knees, watching Nick for a few moments. He dared himself to breathe before deeming it safe and he moved to lay alongside Nick's legs and rest his head on his thigh. Underneath everything: the vomit, the spitter acid, the dirt, the blood... there was still a faint trace of his cologne.

And that was what finally lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you're also beginning to realize each of these was written based on a song.


	4. Only the Good Die Young

It was apparent the first night they spent together as a group: the Southern boy was a definite devout Catholic. He sat in a corner, the familiar object Nick had long since forgotten the specifics of clutched in his hand.

Ellis had no problems showing his true colours to the group. He was loud and brazen and thought this whole thing was fun and games. But now, while sitting in the corner, he muttered under his breath. To God, Nick had no doubt.

The conman had lost his faith in this God character in his teenage years when he dropped out of high school and started hanging out with a gang. The once sweet boy had turned to crime, doing plenty of nights in juvenile hall and spent his days getting his hands on money in any way possible. He smoke, he drank, he did every kind of drug one could name. And in his twenties, he moved on to the Mafia, started circling the Poker circuit, developed a gambling addiction, and a taste for death. He had spent more time in jail than not though he began to learn how to outsmart the judiciary system.

His place in Hell was pretty much sealed in stone.

"Overalls, what are you doing," Nick finally asked one day, sitting next to Ellis during his daily prayer routine.

Blue eyes looked up into his own green, giving him a confused look. "What's it look like, Nick? 'm prayin'."

Nick shook his head, putting his hand out over Ellis' and the Rosary he held. "Sorry to break it to ya, kid. But you're a sinner."

He might as well have just whacked him in the side of the head with a baseball bat. "Wh-what..."

"Isn't that one of the things in the Ten Commandments or something? 'Thou shalt not kill'? Look around you, Ellis. You kill hundreds of people every damn day."

He was quiet as Nick continued. "And don't think I've seen how close you get to me at night. You're just dying to tell me something, aren't ya?"

"I ain't no queer, Nick."

The elder male only smirked, leaning in and taking Ellis' face in his hands and kissing him.

"Might as well be. You've got nothing to lose."

Ellis gave him an uncertain glance but finally leaned in to kiss him again, dropping the Rosary onto the floor beside him.

 


	5. Starstruck (SMUT)

If anyone had ever bothered to ask Nick what the first thing he noticed about a person was, he would tell them it was if they had a nice ass or not.

Ellis had been no exception.

Nick had been married once before. His wife had been shot dead shortly after their wedding. He was wanted for murder and treason and had gotten messed up with the Mafia on the East Coast. More than he wanted to admit. And none of it was his fault. The kid didn't need that in his life.

It wasn't that he was queer. It was that he was frustrated. Not to mention he was kinda-sorta charmed by the young Southern boy.

When it happened, it happened outside the Sugar Mill. The storm would have moments of complete torrential wrath and others where it seemed like the sun would come back out any minute. Nick and Ellis had taken shelter quickly in an abandoned shack, the sobbing of Witches being drowned out by the wind and the rain. "God damn storm. Hope Coach and Ro found shelter," Nick sighed.

Ellis remained quiet, just moved towards him. He caught him by surprise, wrapping his arms around the older male's neck and kissing him. When he didn't pull away, the mechanic turned around and began to rub sensuously against Nick's groin and he sighed, fingers curling against the younger male's hips. As he grew hard, he began to hump him hard, grinding him into the wall of the shack.

"Please, Nick. Please..."

He didn't have to ask more than that. The elder male adjusted their position and clothing so that they could feel flesh upon flesh, and he spit in his palm to make the entrance less painful before pushing into him without thinking twice.

Blood thundered in his ears, almost draining out the sound of the wind howling in between the cracks of the wooden boards and Ellis' painful screams. It was messy and imperfect, different from fucking a female.

It wasn't long till he came without warning, not having the conscious state of mind to notice Ellis had come a few minutes earlier from the rough treatment. It was then he realised the storm was receding again, and the Witches were sobbing full force.

"Don't speak of this. To anyone," he muttered, pulling his pants up and redoing his belt as Ellis did the same. "I wasn't goin' to."

And he runs out of the shack before he hears anything else, afraid it will be something that will distract him from surviving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all haven't had anything in a few days, so have a couple chapters. This one is even smut. Ayyy.


	6. Still Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick is hurt, Ellis stays behind to watch him which Coach and Rochelle search for medical supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in like a year, been having trouble with my external, where these are saved. But here ya go. Another one. Enjoy.

The conversation had started on the roof of a building, Nick and Ellis peering over the ledge to watch for Infected that ran by and snipe them while Coach and Rochelle ran ahead to find health supplies. Nick was hurt and was lagging, putting the group in danger, so Ellis volunteered to watch him, basically.

"'Ey, Nick... where'd you get such a nice suit from?"

Leave it to Ellis to ask a random ass question to pass the time. "From the store, Ellis. Where else would I get it from."

The hick didn't look quite convinced. "A store? You sure you didn't _kill_ someone for it?"

"I did plenty of that back in the day, kid," he said, cocking his gun and shooting an Infected that had toddled into view. "Someone had something I wanted, I killed 'em for it. Didn't think twice. Got my first car that way," he admitted, kneeling back down out of view. "1964 Studebaker convertible. Beautiful thing..." Of course, he had surrendered it to the Mafia to pay for debts, along with several other items he had offed previous owners for. "I'd like you to know I make an honest living and buy my things nowadays."

Nowadays as being maybe the last five years. Maybe.

"And what's yer honest livin', huh? Scammin' people out of their money with a deck of cards?"

Ellis was getting a tone, one Nick had never heard before on the other male.

"Screw you," he said, sighing as he looked back over the ledge once he heard footfalls. "You're still sore over that one little hand of Blackjack. It's luck, Ellis, you don't question it."

"So, if'n you die right now, will that be luck, too?"

Dammit.


End file.
